


in search

by smithens



Category: Historical RPF, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Canon Era, England (Country), Ficlet, Fossils, Gen, Quintuple Drabble
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-22
Updated: 2017-04-22
Packaged: 2018-10-22 10:32:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10695201
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smithens/pseuds/smithens
Summary: Combeferre, on holiday at the south coast of England, runs into a little renowned geologist on the beach.





	in search

**Author's Note:**

  * For [shellcollector](https://archiveofourown.org/users/shellcollector/gifts).



> For Shell, a very good friend, & also to any one else who collects or collected shells, including Mary Anning (b. 1799, d. 1847).

“You do possess a shrewd eye, Mister -”

“Combeferre - but may I emend, I spotted the dog before its digging.” 

“He blends in; I shall keep my own opinion of you. Thank you for retrieving the oyster - a complete specimen, no less. And, you may call me -”

“Miss Anning?”

He offered his hand to her, and after transferring the basket at her right arm to her other, they shook. She seemed wary: beneath her sun-bonnet, her forehead had creases of a frown, and her lips were set in a line.

There was no sun, either: dark clouds in great lumps hung weighty overhead, and the rush of the sea was louder, less patterned, than Combeferre liked to remember it. The overcast gave him the sense of being in a dream: they two were the only people on the beach as far as he could see, although he knew his sisters were around the bend in the cliff behind him.

“Yes,” the woman said, “that is right, Mister Combeferre.”

“Enchanted,” Combeferre replied, after an awkward pause during which he could not remember the correct word. He attempted a smile, with the objective of lessening however imposing he might feel to her. 

In her cap and long skirted coat she seemed rather matronly, the basket might have been for herbs, rather than fossil specimens. The little spotted dog sat on its hind legs against her skirt.

Up close, he could guess her age: likely she was but few years older than he. 

Had he not known previously of a scientific woman with a penchant for beachcombing - or rather, had she not been well known in the area - he would have left both her and her dog alone.

“I enjoy geology,” said Combeferre to Miss Anning, “I do not visit at these cliffs often, but I have heard of you, your hobbies, and that is all.”

It was another thing, too, to speak in English with a stranger who was perhaps rightfully suspicious of men who knew her name prior to her presentation.

Nevertheless she nodded, and if she could not understand him she did not say so. 

“I am here every day.”

She lifted her basket and pick, changing hands again, a mere hint of a smile at her eyes. The dog stood to paw at her skirt; it left a little touch of sand behind.

“Miss Anning,” he said, before he lost the nerve - “may I take you to tea within the week? I have a great interest in the  _ Pterodactylus macronyx. _ ”

Her brown eyes widened just so.

“No,” she said. “But I did say - I come here every day. I think that you can find me. A pleasure to meet you, Mister Combeferre.”

And he nodded, unable to protest or offer otherwise. As she walked away, he made note of her footsteps in the sand, the peculiar outline of the rocks along the cliffside, and told himself that tomorrow he would come to this exact place in search of her again.

 

**Author's Note:**

> We'll pretend that Combeferre would have had an easy way of knowing about Mary Anning - in my headcanon he's been reading English geological journals often enough that he did catch when she (and her name) were eventually credited for her paleological discoveries.


End file.
